“Yes,” I said. “We do.”
The crowd began to break up, families heading home or to the Red Fang Saloon for hot chocolate, orc festival drinks, cookies, and assorted orc treats. Hail and Allie had left ornaments for each person to pick from, spread out on tables inside.
Carla stayed with me, still staring up at the tree like she was trying to memorize every detail.
“You don’t know what it means to be part of this.” She turned to face me, her brown eyes reflecting the golden lights. “Thanks for letting me share your Christmas. I’ve always dreamed of something like this.”
The gratitude in her voice made it feel like she was saying goodbye.
“You made this happen,” I said. “The celebration, the way the community came together. That’s because of your vision and your work.”
“Our work.”
“Mostly yours.”
She shook her head, but before she could argue, Holly appeared with a tray of steaming mugs.
“Hot chocolate for the tree-cutting heroes,” she said. “Max insisted on extra marshmallows for both of you.”
We accepted the drinks, the warmth seeping through our gloves. The chocolate was rich and sweet, topped with tiny marshmallows and a sprinkle of zent, a sweet orc spice.
“This is wonderful.” Carla sighed, taking another sip.
I watched her savor the simple treat, noting the way her eyes closed with contentment, the small smile that curved her lips. She looked peaceful, settled, like someone who had finally found home.
The observation both thrilled and terrified me.
“We should head back,” she said eventually. “We have an early morning tomorrow with final preparations.”
I nodded, though I wasn’t ready for this to end. Standing here with her, surrounded by Christmas magic and the warmth of community, felt too precious to leave.
But tomorrow would come whether I was ready or not. And with it, all the last-minute preparations that would define our final days together.
As we walked back toward the hotel, Carla chattering about decorating ideas and parade logistics, I let myself imagine what it would be like if she stayed, if this easy companionship and growing affection could develop into something permanent. Ifnext year, we’d stand together in this same spot, watching our next tree light up the square, but as mates instead of colleagues.
The fantasy was so vivid, so desperately wanted, that it made my heart spasm.
I had three days to show her that Lonesome Creek could be more than a temporary assignment, that what we’d built together was worth staying for.
ThatIwas worth staying for.
Chapter 18
Becken
Saturday arrived with all the subtlety of a chumble mama rushing to protect her babies. I found myself standing in the function hall before dawn, staring at what looked like the aftermath of a Christmas decoration explosion, while Carla paced through the debris with barely controlled panic written across her face.
Everything that could, had gone wrong, and the parade was only hours away.
The woman was driving me to distraction, and not because she was flustered about the costumes or the Santa suit. I still didn’t know how to tell her everything in my heart.
“What happened?” I asked, taking in the scattered garland, broken ornaments, and dejected-looking evergreen trees.
“It snowed. Again. And the temporary storage shelf collapsed during the night. I dragged it all in here to go through it.” Her voice held barely controlled frustration. “Everything for Santa’s workshop is wrecked. The backdrop, most of the decorations, even some of the gifts we’d set aside for those getting photos.” She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. “There isn’t time to fix it all, is there?”
I surveyed the damage. Days of careful preparation, ruined in one night. “Can we salvage anything?”
“Some of it, maybe. But we’d need to rebuild most of the display.” She ran her hands through her hair. “But the parade starts in six hours. We also have to get ready for that.”
